


That Which Yields is Not Always Weak

by Minxie



Series: Power Exchange [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: KINK: D/s, M/M, QAF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Brian," he whispers, his hips undulating in a slow, steady cadence, "I want to go home. I want you to fuck me. Hard. And then I want to finish all these negotiations." His tongue traces the underside of my jaw in a series of hot, wet lazy circles. "I want to be yours."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Yields is Not Always Weak

**Author's Note:**

> _Immediately_ follows [Thou Art to Me a Delicious Torment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/26198). As I said before, if you are looking for simple D/s-style sex games, this ain't the series for you. This is more of a journey. *g* Title is a quote from Jacqueline Carey.
> 
> Thanks to leela_cat for the beta!

"So," I look at Justin and then down to the legal pad in my hand, coffee forgotten for the moment, "this sounds like we need to set aside a time to talk."

Justin's smile fades from bright to shy. He dips his head, looks towards the counter and then, blinking, looks up through his lashes, "Yeah."

And I know, the same way I know my own goddamn name, that I am so fucking screwed. Have been from the very beginning.

"Um," and his eyes flick down, go back to studying the counter, "what now?"

Now? Now I fuck him. Long and hard, marking, claiming, _owning_. And then we talk.

I glance at his schedule hanging on the side of the fridge. And frown. "You're due at the diner soon."

He rolls his shoulders. "Always have a Saturday shift."

True. But still. There goes the fucking. At least the unhurried fuck that I want.

Biting back a sigh, I toss the legal pad on the counter. "Shower then?"

Because there is always time for shower sex. Even if I did just take a shower of my own.

Justin slides off the stool and to his feet. "Yeah."

I watch him walk towards the bedroom. Ass wiggling beneath that damned towel, teasing and taunting and making my dick hard. This early in the morning, especially on a weekend morning, he should be naked. Preferably stretched out on some piece of furniture with my dick buried deep in that bubble butt of his.

And he will be. As soon as we get in the fucking shower.

* * *

  
Steam is filling the shower by the time I get there. And Justin, the outline of his body softened by water and fog, is standing beneath the spray, head tilted back, skin flushing and turning a light shade of pink. Jesus.

I step in behind him, run my fingers and then my hands over his back and shoulders, kneading the muscles, forcing the small amount of tension stiffening his shoulders away. When he relaxes against me I drop my head down, brush a soft kiss over his neck, over the mark, _my_ mark, and whisper, "Are you sure?"

A soft moan escapes him and then, licking his lips, he nods. "Yes."

"It'll be nothing like you've come to expect from me." And that's the truth. Even these past few weeks, first when I was feeling him out and then while Justin was thinking and researching, have been nothing more than the tip of the iceberg, a mere hint of where this can go, how it can play out.

He huffs a laugh. "That's been proven already."

"But you're sure?" The doubt in my voice is obvious to my ears, and, when Justin turns, holds himself far enough back to look at me eye to eye, I see it's just as apparent to him.

"Saying I know what I'm doing is a lie. You know that."

I give him a jerky nod. I do know that. He's been clueless about a lot of things, about most things where we're concerned.

"But this?" He waves a hand between us. "This feels right. Feels safe and exciting and—" he swallows once "—stable, secure, concrete."

The last three words come out in a rush, a blush stealing over his cheeks, a darker pink that stands out against the color brought on by the water raining down on us. Justin's eyes are filled with surety, knowledge that he is being honest with himself, with me. But beneath the confidence, the openness is a wariness that happens only when he's afraid of overstepping, of bringing on one of my queen outs. I stand quietly and wait. His caution can only be overcome by time and consistency. From me.

Slowly, the longer I simply watch him, make him aware that I'm listening, that I _hear_ him, the more his uneasiness fades. Softly, almost quieter than a whisper, Justin says, "I need that, want that." Then stronger, louder, he adds, "I want this with you."

That's all it takes. Hearing him say he _wants_ this with me and it's over. My last hope for slow and tender, for building the pleasure until we're both on the verge of exploding is gone. I attack his mouth, biting and sucking and demanding entrance as one hand pulls him closer and the other scrabbles along the tiles, searching for a condom.

There is one lone thought working its way through me.

_Mine._

I nudge his shoulder, turning him around, pushing him against the glass, and, with lube spilling over my fingers and down the crack of his ass, make a mockery out of prepping him.

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

When I'm in him, when my dick is surrounded by him, caught in the clenching heat of his ass, that thought, the solitary, possessive word, bubbles out. Becomes something that is no longer hidden, lurking within me.

"Mine."

* * *

  
Pulling up in front of the diner, I wrap my hand around the back of Justin's neck, my thumb pushing lightly against the dark bruise decorating his neck. "Don't agree to a second shift, Justin."

His eyes flare with arousal and he shakes his head. "No."

I arch a brow, teasing him. "No?"

He blushes, looks down, away from my eyes. "No second shift."

I kiss him. A chaste kiss by our usual standards, but still more than enough to send him into work glassy-eyed and horny. "I'll be here at five to pick you up."

With a nod, he gets out of the car and walks away, his cargos riding low on his hips and his tight tee calling attention to the mark on his neck. Everyone will know who put it there. The smart ones will see it for the claim that it is.

"Hey," I call through the open window. "I mean it. We have plans for tonight."

He gives me a smile, the same shy one from earlier this morning, the one that punches me in the gut every fucking time. The same damn one he gave me the first night under the streetlight. It's the look that will be my undoing.

"Five. I'll be ready." Then he disappears into the diner.

Now I have seven hours to work with. Considering all the plans racing through my head, seven hours doesn't seem like it'll be enough.

The first thing is easy enough. Justin needs people who understand, those who recognize our choice and respect it. He needs to have someone to talk to, discuss things with. Things that he isn't comfortable bringing to me. A friend who will, with no worries about my reaction, be there for him. His counterpart to my relationship with Tony.

Without the sexual aspect, thank you very much.

And I know the best person for the position. Opening my phone, I dial and, when the voice mail kicks in, leave a message.

"Hey, it's Brian. Wanted to see if you and Jess are available tonight, maybe for dinner or drinks or something." I stop and swallow hard because, yeah, this, for me, makes it very fucking real. "I'd like to introduce you to Justin."

At the last second I add my numbers — house and cell — and close the phone.

Now I have to find a locksmith who works weekends. Guaranteeing our privacy at the loft has become very fucking important.

* * *

  
Tony and Jess are standing outside the diner, huddled together despite the very public location. They're a striking couple, garnering the type of glances that are usually reserved for the times when Justin and I take over Babylon's dance floor: hopeful, appreciative, wanting. Not that any of Liberty's twinks stand a chance of stepping into that mix.

They break apart when I cut the engine. Tony steps up and pulls me into hug as soon as I'm out of the jeep. His lips graze my temple, and he slaps me on the back. "Was wondering when you'd get around to introductions, Kinney."

I elbow him lightly, ignoring the chastising because, yeah, I've earned it. And, good or bad, Tony has never let me slide on something I've earned.

"Hey, Jess." I lean down and press a kiss against the mass of wild red curls that fit Jess perfectly. "Been too long, kid."

He rolls his eyes and reclaims his spot beneath Tony's arm. "Your own fault. No one said that not playing in the scene meant we couldn't hang out."

I give into the urge and make a face at him. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. You ever gonna change?"

With an unrepentant, "Nope," Jess grabs Tony's hand and tugs. "I'm cold, time to go in now."

Tony laughs out and follows behind Jess. "Come on, Kinney. Time to collect your Justin."

_My_ Justin. Damn right.

Unfortunately the good humor only lasts until the door shuts behind us.

* * *

  
"What the fuck?"

My eyes snap to the source of the screech: Debbie. I watch as she motions for Justin to stay at the counter — a command he completely ignores — and then makes her way over to me, arms flailing and fingers jabbing accusingly.

"What the hell is this about, asshole?" Her eyes skate over Tony and Jess and then come right back, boring into me like hot daggers. "Thought you left all this shit behind."

"Debbie," I drawl, fighting to keep an easy going attitude. "Pleasant as always."

A silent argument flies between us. This — the opinions of Debbie and Mikey and the like — are one of the main reasons I originally backed away from the scene, away from Tony and Jess. Fuck knows I've always been more worried about my goddamn image, more bothered about what my friends might say than anything else.

"You remember Tony and, his partner, Jess?"

Her eyes flick to Tony. "Officer."

The look on Justin's face is pure confusion. Comical if not for the fact that this is not going the way I'd planned at all. Fuck.

"Justin." When he looks at me, I arch one brow and ask, "Ready?"

He looks between me and Debbie, then over to Tony and Jess, relaxing minutely when Jess flashes a small grin.

"Justin?"

"Yeah," he nods quickly. "Just need my jacket."

Still ignoring Debbie, I tilt my head towards the kitchen. "Go get it. I'm ready to get the hell out of here."

The stalemate lasts until Justin clears the room. Then Debbie hisses, fucking _hisses_, "I can't believe you'd drag Sunshine into that shit. Don't you think the kid's been through enough between his asshole father and the idiots at his fancy school?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Deb."

She looks over her shoulder, and then turns back to me. "Of all people, especially with the childhood you had…"

"Mrs. Novotny—" I wonder if Jess and I are the only ones who can tell just how pissed Tony is, can hear the hard edge in his voice "—you're passing judgment without the benefit of knowledge."

Deb cracks her gum and drills Tony with an angry stare. "What the fuck do you know about me?"

"Only that Brian takes your opinions to heart, generally bends to your desires—" _Christ_, this is spiraling out of control, getting way too fucking personal "—even when they conflict with what is actually best for him. For once, please, just trust Brian."

Debbie looks on the verge of an explosion, her face almost as red as her wig.

A flash of blond catches my eye and then Justin is sliding —literally— to a stop beside me, ending the conversation not a moment too soon.

Slipping a finger beneath his waistband, I tug him closer. "Feel up to dinner with some friends? Jess eats about as much as you do."

Justin turns to Jess, gets a shrug and a grin in response. Then looks back at me, flashing a grin of his own. "Yeah."

"Let's go then."

Tony propels Jess in my direction. "Give me thirty. I'll catch up."

Meaning now that the door has opened, Tony has plenty more to say to Debbie. It'd almost be worth sticking around and watching. Almost. "Don't be long, Tony. Take out will be there in less than forty and I'm sure these two will be more than ready to eat."

And I walk out, letting Tony play my protector. Something I could have had from him years ago but was too stubborn to accept. But it's different this time.

Now there's more to lose.

* * *

  
Justin and Jess are at the table, heads together over one of Justin's sketchbooks, their plates empty and pushed to the side. Tony and I are on the sofa, long forgotten to the lure of their artistic passions.

"You'd never know there's almost seven years between them."

I grunt in agreement. Justin has always acted older. If you overlook his princess moments, like running off to New York.

"Think we're accomplishing what you wanted?"

Tipping back my beer, I give the question a fair amount of thought. All I wanted, really, was for Justin to meet Tony and Jess, to see that people like Deb have no idea what they're talking about. That much has been done. "More, I think."

Tony arches a brow and motions me to continue. Jackass.

"He's got enough first-hand information to combat some of the shit he's going to hear."

"True." Amusement lights Tony's eyes. "I do believe you've met your match in that one. He's a bold little shit."

I chuckle. Because, yeah, Tony doesn't know the half of what Justin is capable of doing.

"Caught me completely off guard when he asked about our dynamic." Tony shakes his head, smiling as he sets his bottle to the side. "Good thing Jess is just as erratic in his conversations. Experience is all that kept me from looking like a fool."

_Our dynamic_ — and really, I have to snort at that — is just a polite way of mentioning Justin's stumbling questions about my history with Tony. "The boy is nosy."

I say it as much because it's the truth as to get Tony to give me his opinion of Justin.

He rolls his eyes, most likely because he knows exactly what I'm trying to do. "He's new, open to learning. Just take it at his pace, Brian."

"You think he knows enough to know what he wants?"

"Oh, yeah. That boy is strong. Stronger than I bet even you give him credit for." We both watch Justin and Jess, let their voices, their comments about Justin's art and Jess' latest writing adventure fill the space around us. "I sincerely doubt he'd agree to anything if it he wasn't really interested. No matter how much he wants your fine looking ass."

The silence draws out comfortably between us. One thing for sure, Tony was right when he said erratic conversation. They've both taken turn after turn, moved from food to hobbies to sex and lifestyle and back again easily enough to seem normal. And, I guess, for them it is.

However, I still want one thing from Tony. And, seeing as I've been waiting — and patiently, at that — for an update since Tony got here, it's time to take the bull by the horns. "You going to tell me what happened between you and Deb after we left?"

Tony shakes his head. "Nope. That's between me and Mrs. Novotny."

"You're un-fucking-believable."

Then the fucker smirks. "Old news there, Kinney."

* * *

  
I slide into the booth across from Emmett and Ted almost an hour before the end of Justin's Sunday shift. A late lunch is the perfect excuse to make sure Deb isn't harassing Justin too much. Because I'm damn sure she's been harassing him.

"What's with Debbie today?" Leave it to Emmett to talk about the elephant in the room.

"You tell me. I haven't seen her yet." Although I'm sure I know what her problem is.

Emmett wrinkles his nose and, one hand waving about, starts filling me in on everything I missed. "It has something to do with Justin."

And I was right. Surprise, surprise.

"They've been circling each other like two wet cats since we got here." Emmett looks around Ted, eyes scanning the back half of the diner. "And then, when it was time for us to order, I heard her tell him he better take this one since she was sure his keeper would be coming in."

His keeper, huh? That gets a chuckle. If there was ever someone that needed a keeper, it would be my wayward twink. "Say no more, Honeycutt. I know exactly what it's about."

He leans across the table, drops his voice to a whisper. "Well? Are you going to share?"

I roll my lips together and think about answering. And then decide not to. As much as I want to tell him, tell everyone, I won't until Justin and I have finished hammering everything out. "Not mine to tell."

Emmett frowns at me. "That's never stopped you before."

Time to change the subject, before Auntie Em has an epiphany. "Still wanking at work, Theodore?"

Before he can answer — and, really, I'm grateful for the impeccable timing — Justin plops down beside me. "I'm ready when you are."

I slide towards him, bumping his hips, pushing him out of the booth and onto his feet. "Despite the stellar company," I don't even try to tamp down the smirk, "duty calls. Later."

Just before opening the door, I catch an all-too-knowing look in Emmett's eyes. Like he knows exactly what the fuck Deb was going on about. And he probably does. The man is smarter than his hick accent lets on.

* * *

  
Three pieces of paper are spread across the counter in a neat row. Three lists: his, mine, and ours, a combination of the other two. Justin is reading them, has been reading and re-reading them for the past thirty minutes. I'm expecting commentary any minute now, sure that some of the things I want will surprise him.

In a pleasant, life affirming way, at that.

"Brian."

I look up with a smirk in place. I knew it wouldn't be much longer before the questions started. "Yeah?"

"There's a lot here. I mean, a bunch, most of this, has nothing to do with…"

His words fade out as his face flames with color. He's an innocent in so many fucking ways.

"Say it, Justin."

He swallows once and then again, his Adam's apple bobbing each time. "Sex. Nothing to do with sex."

"Get over here." I motion him over to the sofa. "And bring that one damned list with you, the combined one."

His hand tightens around the piece of paper and he stands, walking slowly from the counter to the sofa. I tug him down, situate him between my legs and, brushing a kiss over his neck, I take the paper from his hands. "What on here is bothering you?"

Justin shrugs and, closing his eyes, leans against my chest. "It's just… I don't…"

"Justin," I growl, knowing that he'll react to that tone immediately, almost instinctively.

"There's just a lot there to fuck up." He tilts his head back and opens his eyes, pinning me with a serious stare. "For both of us."

He's afraid. But not of the things that I want from him. He's afraid of the changes _I'm_ making, expectations I'm putting on myself. Fuck.

"I told you that this would be completely new, that everything between us would be changing."

"There's change and then there's…" He snorts and, with a roll of his eyes, shakes his head. "You don't date, Brian."

Little shit. He hasn't forgotten one damn thing I've said to him since the night we met.

Sighing, I decide it's time to correct some misconceptions. "I know that Jess told you Tony is, like, my mentor."

He nods, his cheek rubbing over my chest. "Yeah, and I have questions about that too."

"Of course you do," I chuckle softly.

I feel his lips curve, the beginnings of a smile pressing against my skin through the thin tank.

"Later." I tap him lightly on his ass. "One of the first things Tony stressed—" through word and deed, not that I'm telling Justin about that right now "—was that dating is just as important as anything else. So for me, dating isn't something you do when it's just about--"

"The fucking," Justin says, stopping my words with his own.

I roll my lips together and nod. Trying to explain better, I add, "Dating is an investment."

He's quiet, leaning back as his eyes search my face, looking, I assume, for some type of confirmation. Finally he nods. "Okay, so we'll have dates."

"Not all wine and roses and over-the-top lesbionic gestures."

Justin's lips twitch and his eyes fill with mischief. "No, definitely not those kind of dates."

"Twat." And I land another soft slap on his ass. "What else is bothering you?"

Because I know damn well, with topics like tricking and schedules and his moving back into the loft, the dating thing is only the beginning of this discussion.

* * *

  
"Kinney."

I look up, surprised to find Tony here, in my office, in his fucking uniform. I can hear the gossip queens now. Christ.

Poking my tongue into my cheek, I drawl, "I'm going to assume there's an unofficial reason for this visit, Officer."

He arches a brow and, hands resting on his gun belt, leans against the door frame. "Depends on what you've got to say for yourself, young man."

Asshole. He's just adding fuel to the fire now. Most likely on purpose. Smirking, I play along. "I promise, Sir, whatever it was, I didn't do it."

Chuckling, he steps into the office, shuts the door behind him, and, instead of sitting down like normal company, perches on the edge of my desk. "I had a call less than a block from here, figured I'd kill two birds and stop in to talk to you before I head out."

Sounds reasonable. Except _reasonable_ won't stop the office news hounds one bit. Not that Tony will give a shit one way or the other. "Talk about what?"

"Justin has questions."

And now I have questions. "He called you?"

"Hell no. He called Jess." Tony reaches out and grabs the stress ball from my desk, tosses it in the air and catches it once before looking at me. "You should bring him over to the house, let him walk through the playroom. Explain shit to him, maybe plan a night at the Eagle."

"The Eagle?" Better than Meat Hook, not right in the middle of Liberty Avenue. Balanced, sociable. Lifestyle. But still more than Justin is ready for.

He tosses the ball to me and then shrugs. "Jess' suggestion."

Apparently Jess knows more than I do about what Justin is ready for. Fucking typical. "Your house first and then, if Justin wants, a group night at the Eagle."

"Deal." Tony leans across the desk and brushes a kiss over my forehead. "Tomorrow night, Brian. I'll let Jess know."

I nod. "Around seven?"

"Make it five-thirty. We'll have dinner." He looks back from the open door. "And don't even think about bitching over the carbs."

* * *

  
Justin laughs, a full out, hold his gut laugh. "Too funny."

"Oh, yeah, just fucking hilarious." I roll my eyes. "Especially when Ryder came down from his hilltop office to ask about my visit from one of Pittsburgh's finest."

Tony tips his beer in salute. "Nice to know I can still cause a stir."

"A stir?" Snorting, I push away from the table and start to clear, falling back on my past times with Tony. "It was a little more than a stir."

"Brian."

I stop midstride and turn. "Yes?"

"Why don't you show Justin around and let me and Jess handle the clean up?"

It's posed as a question but the pointed look, the pitch of his voice says something else entirely.

"Yeah, okay. I'll just…"

Jess takes the plate from my hands and giggles. "Justin, have him start in the safe room."

* * *

  
I flip the switch and the room is bathed in a purple hue. "Welcome to the safe room, home to secrets galore."

Justin looks around, eyes lingering on the pillows stacked against the wall. "Guess I know where the blue lights came from, huh?"

My lips twitch at the corners. "Possibly."

He rolls his eyes and grins. "So this is a safe room?"

"Yeah." I grab his wrist and tug, pulling him with me to the floor. "A place to talk, to work through things. Share secrets…"

The door is open, the opportunity to ask is there. Whether Justin does, whether or not he asks anything of me is up to him.

Justin looks at me. "Is this where _you_ share your secrets?"

I nod. Once. "Been known to."

"Will you share one with me?"

One. He has an open field and he asks for one. Of my choosing. Silly boy. Silly, trusting boy. Licking my lips, I take a deep breath and start talking. "Tony helped me with a lot. His way of mentoring a Dom is to have them sub for him first. With Jess' okay, of course."

I shift us around, stretch out on the floor, my head on pillows, Justin's on my chest.

"As much as he taught me in there," I point towards the dark archway across the room, to the playroom barely visible in the filtered light, "it was in here that I learned the most about myself, about what I want out of life. When I met Tony, I was—" I stop, searching for the right word. "I guess, floundering. Just out of college, brand new at Ryder, completely free to do my own thing. And this is what I wanted."

"But you left it."

Too smart for his —and my— own good. "Yeah. Because people, friends, family, because they didn't get it, and I wasn't ready to fight for it. Didn't have a reason to fight for it. It was easier to walk away, to say fuck it and keep doing what I knew how to do."

"Tricking."

"Tricking," I agree. "Then you came along."

I can feel Justin's lips curving into a smile. Not the full Monty, just a satisfied curl around the edges.

"And, almost on autopilot, I went looking for Tony." I swallow hard, blow out a ragged breath, "Ended up here, finally admitting out loud that you're more than a trick."

Justin's head jerks up, his eyes wide and searching. "You came here…"

"After the unexpected trip to New York."

He's holding back. He clearly wants to ask a million different questions at once. But the most important one is written in his eyes.

"We didn't fuck. We came in here, and talked."

The seconds tick off —one… two… three… four… five…— and then I see things falling into place for him. Thank fucking god.

"Like we do on the couch."

He's made the right connection. "Yeah."

"Is that something we'll keep doing?" I raise a brow in question, waiting for him to tell me, forcing him ask for what he wants. "Sitting on the couch and actually talking?"

"Yeah." No matter how much I fucking hate talking, we'll be doing plenty of it.

"Good." And then he drops a kiss on my lips and grunts, pushing to a stand. There's pure devilment lighting his eyes. "So, you gonna show me what else Tony taught you?"

* * *

  
Justin is walking around the playroom, eyes darting once over everything quickly and then, in a second sweep of the room, more slowly. I lean against the wall and watch him, make note of the things that garner a third look, a subtle touch. Things like the cross in the corner —lacquered and polished to a high shine— and the drawer of glass dildos —large and heavy, sparkling in the dim light— and the cabinet filled with floggers —varying lengths of deer hide and leather and rabbit fur.

And then I picture him, naked and begging, his back and thighs damp with sweat and worked to deep pink hue. His dick hard, the tip wet with precome, and his ass spread, opened up by nine inches of unforgiving glass cock.

Christ.

His ass is mine as soon as we get home. Assuming I can fucking wait until we get back home. The jeep is beginning to look like a viable option. Right along with the goddamn park at the end of the block.

"Can I just keep red, yellow, and green for now?"

I shake my head, forcing the image to the background and refocus on the present. "You can keep them for as long as you want to."

"Figured that." He turns away from the floggers and slowly makes his way across the room, stopping when there's just a hair's breadth between us. "And, I can use them…"

"Anytime you need to. That's what the words are for."

He steps closer, molds himself to my body. "And when there's something I want to try?"

Jesus. Fuck. The boy is going to be the death of me.

"We talk about it." I close my eyes and try to ignore the feel of his dick pressing against my thigh. "And then we'll go from there."

"Brian," he whispers, his hips undulating in a slow, steady cadence, "I want to go home. I want you to fuck me. Hard. And then I want to finish all these negotiations." His tongue traces the underside of my jaw in a series of hot, wet lazy circles. "I want to be yours."

Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I squeeze once and then lead him out of the playroom. "Time to say goodnight, Sunshine."

* * *

  
"It's time." My words seem loud, overwhelming in the nighttime quiet of the loft, and I look back towards the bed, needing to be sure Justin is still asleep. This is something I need to do alone.

As I fit the key into the lock, opening the keepsake box that holds the books and paddle from my time with Tony, I recall Tony's words the day he tied the cowry shell bracelet around my wrist.

> _"And how long am I supposed to wear this?" The comment is snarky, the words drawled and full of faked disinterest. I know, with one look at Tony's face, that he sees right through it._
> 
> He ties off the leather bands, presses a kiss to the knot resting over my pulse point. "Until you're ready not to."
> 
> I look between the bracelet and Tony and then over to Jess, blinking back the swell of affection I feel for both of them.
> 
> Christ. This trip to Mexico, a vacation marking the end of my time with Tony, has turned into an emotional sandtrap. Swallowing against the feelings tightening my throat, a ball of excitement and fear and nervous anticipation, I ask, "How?"
> 
> "Don't worry, boy." Tony's voice is just as gruff as mine. "You'll know when it's time."

  
And he was right. I know that now is the time.

It's time to let go of the past. All of it. Including this final representation, this last tangible symbol of a time when I belonged to someone else.

I slip the bracelet off, brush my lips over the row of cowry shells, and place it in the box. Closing one door so I can step through another.

A door that leads to Justin giving me what I need: the right to take care of him without recrimination. Among other things.

* * *

  
Tracking Justin through Babylon is easy. I'm not the only one marking his progress. Most of the men in the club are watching him, too many of them want to fuck him. Time to put a stop to that shit right now.

Pushing off the bar, I meet him halfway across the dance floor. Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, I pull him in for a kiss. A hello-I'm-so-going-to-fuck-you-tonight kiss. Let all those sorry fuckers make of it what they will.

"What was that for?"

"I don't have to have a reason." I smirk, because, yeah, I _really_ don't have to have a reason anymore. Will need even less of one come this weekend, after everything is signed, sealed, and delivered. "You complaining?"

"Not at all." He grins and shakes his head. "Just wasn't expecting it."

"Uh huh." I kiss him again, just a brush of lips, and then steer him towards the bar. "Wanna beer?"

His eyes widen. "Thought we were staying away from that tonight."

My cock swells and jerks. That reminder of what I have planned is almost enough to have me turning around, leading him to the jeep instead of the bar. "One beer between us, that's all. Plenty of time to dance it out of our system."

Motioning to the bartender, I tuck a finger into the waist of Justin's cargos, tugging him backwards until he's resting against me, his back to my chest. I'm quiet, listening while he talks with Emmett, enjoying the scenery and the feeling of Justin's ass rolling against my dick.

At least I am until Michael invades.

"What was that all about?"

Both of my eyebrows go up. "What was what about?"

"That," he motions to the dance floor, "out there."

I give him a smirk. "I'm disappointed, Mikey. Even you should know what a kiss looks like."

"Kiss?" He looks at me like I've grown a second head. "Looked like you were trying to eat him."

"I only do that when we're at home."

"Home? Since when?" He splutters, mouth opening and closing. "Boy Wonder lives with Ma."

I pull another swallow from the beer and then press the bottle into Justin's hands.

"What the hell is going on, Brian?"

As Justin drains the beer, I curl my hands over his shoulders and start leading him away from the bar. "Later, Mikey. Something's coming up."

* * *

  
Our dancing is, like always, a prelude to sex. Only it's different. Because this time we both know there will be more than a blow job in the backroom, or a drunken fuck before passing out.

I can't help but wonder if it shows. If everyone here can see the sparks flying between, the hints of what's to come. If they know or suspect that Justin and I will leave Babylon just as sober as we came in, make our way to the loft, to our home, and then… then, if it's even half as intense as the anticipation, have the most spectacular sex the Pitts has ever seen.

We rock together, following the beat of the music, moving to the vibrations echoing through us. Slow sensual grinds, fast heavy thrusts, cocks rubbing and bumping against each other, against hips and thighs. All of it working to push me higher and Justin deeper, both of us reaching for the headspace that's always fluttering around the edges, the mentality that's been there from the very first night.

Justin is mine. Mine from day fucking one.

And I am just as much his. Was even before I acknowledged it, accepted it.

Looking into his eyes, seeing the blown and glassy black rimmed with the barest of bright blue, I know it's time to leave, time to go before the need overrides the desire and we fall back into the habit of a backroom fuck.

"Home, boy."

He groans, a sound of relief and nervousness blended together. "_Yes._"

* * *

  
We stumble into the loft, laughing and groping and kissing while I shut the door and set the alarm, then trip up the steps to the bedroom. We're high on each other, charged with a feral expectancy that hasn't been there before. For once we are unquestionably on the same page, know exactly where this, where we're heading.

And it's definitely someplace special.

"No." I grab his hands, stop him from stripping. "Let me."

"Brian." Justin's fingers are flexing, his hands opening and closing. And he whimpers my name again. "Brian. Please."

I take my time stripping him. Touching and caressing, fucking soothing him as each piece of clothing drops away. "Justin?"

He blinks, tears his eyes away from the leather cuffs and the length of chain waiting for him on the bed, and turns his focus on me.

"Your pace."

"My pace," and he nods once.

He's scared shitless. But wanting, needing. Just like the first night. He gave it all up then. He'll give up even more tonight.

"In the middle, on your front." When he's situated, I strip, tugging my shirt over my head, pushing jeans and underwear down together. Then I'm on him, straddling his thighs, my cock nudging his ass.

And he groans. Tries to spread his legs, to let me in. Begging me wordlessly to fuck him.

I draw my hand back, land a harsh smack against his thigh. "Stop, Justin."

He gasps, his body shuddering beneath me, and then he stills. "Oh, god."

Taking a wrist in each hand, I lean forward, maneuver his arms over his head, and lead his hands to the cuffs. "Ready?"

"Yes." He pushes against me, muscles going taut as he strains, looks for the least bit of leverage. "Fuck, yes."

Goosebumps break out over his arms when I buckle the leather cuffs in place, snug bands of black that seem darker against his pale skin.

Jesus. Just this, just the sight of Justin cuffed to my bed, and I'm ready to shoot. I want to fuck him. Spread his ass open and drive into him, fill him over and over until there is nothing left for him except the feel of my cock.

I sigh his name —_Justin_— as I lean back, dragging my hands over his arms and back, scraping my nails down his spine, watching as streaks of pink and red blossom, differentiating where I've been from how far I've got left to go.

And then the dam breaks, and I'm licking and sucking and biting. Attacking a perfectly blank canvas and leaving my mark. Touching and tasting until Justin moans, deep and guttural.

He's lost, gone from the here and now, floating on sensation: the cool cotton of the sheets, the sting of sweat and saliva, the very fucking air surrounding us.

"Brian, please…"

It's the first crack in the façade, the front that Justin shows the world: strong, independent, afraid of nothing. But when my fingers and tongue are dancing around his hole, when the contrast of silk and burlap is dragged over his skin, wrapped around his cock, that first crack will spider and he'll crumble, shatter beneath me and be left exposed and vulnerable, Justin at his most basic.

That's what I want. I want the Justin no one else gets to see.

Because he's damn sure getting a piece of me very few even believe exists.

 

_…to be continued in…_  
**How Delicious to Corrupt**

And, yeah, things pick up in the next one. *cheeky grin*


End file.
